Even a White Witch Sheds Red Blood
by maroon passport
Summary: The White Witch may take challengers, but only a few actually get to challenge whilst alive - who is Caspian to call a witch when a woman donning green is busy aiming to slaughter an earthling?
1. Chapter 1

Great Aslan had said Peter and Susan would never return to Narnia, but hadn't specified who _would_ return with Lucy and Edmund, or if any of them would ever return to earth.

Caspian hoped this weren't true.

Because now, Narnia was in deep trouble. Prince – now King – Caspian was ruler, but much to his surprise, Narnia had succumbed to the power of a woman who had once nearly ruined the happy land, and all because of the now late Miraz's carelessness.

And so, Aslan decided, the Pevensies' help was once again needed in Narnia. Plus a little extra.

--

Lucy Pevensie was the first of the four kings and queens of old to notice something off about the old wardrobe during a visit to the Professor's house. It was gloomier, darker, yet somehow, more magnificent – appearing much more like the wardrobe during Narnia's days of winter than like the wardrobe that stood after a certain witch's fall.

Lucy frowned as she stared up at it. She was only twelve now, but her attention span was great. She could watch the wardrobe for hours without needing to move.

"What's wrong, Lucy?" asked a sleek voice coming from the doorway. Lucy furrowed her brow before she turned to look at Magnolia, whose silhouette was beautiful, glowing, surrounded by the sunlight that flooded through the room.

Magnolia strode to Lucy. "Something wrong with this thing, hmm?"

She tapped the wardrobe. Unknown, perhaps, to Magnolia, the wardrobe seemed to shudder.

Lucy didn't like Magnolia. She was tall, willowy, and graceful, and was Professor Kirke's student. And though Magnolia was certainly beautiful, she carried with her an aura of arrogance that assumed Lucy was just a little girl – if only Magnolia knew that Lucy had been a queen of Narnia, just one earth year ago!

Magnolia laughed, a tinkling chuckle, and began to walk away, but not without brushing Lucy's cheek with a hand. Her hand was soft and warm, but Lucy still shuddered. "It's all right, Lucy, it's just a wardrobe. It won't hurt you. Or if it _does_, you can always get dear Peter to save you," she laughed. Lucy clenched her teeth as she watched Magnolia stride away.

"I _hate_ that girl," Lucy snarled to Edmund later that evening. "She thinks she's everything."

Edmund shrugged, twirling his fork around in midair thoughtfully as he contemplated his sister's angry face. Like Peter, he was drawn to Magnolia's beauty, at least when she wasn't speaking; her words were almost always cruel. Susan, of course, had to deal with the jealousy that came with the presence a woman of grace and beauty.

Lucy glared at her brother. "_Why _do you yield to her?" she demanded.

Edmund raised an eyebrow and gave her a knowing look. Peter, in turn, glanced at her.

Understanding, Lucy threw up her arms in exasperation and left her brother alone.

While the Pevensies ate dinner, Magnolia sauntered to the wardrobe that so interested Lucy Pevensie. What about it made Lucy come and look at it for hours at a time?

Looking over her slender shoulder to be sure no one was looking, Magnolia wrenched open the door of the wardrobe and peered in. Nothing special there. Disappointed, Magnolia began to rummage around the coats. She found a luxurious fur one, and, intrigued by materials as she was, tried to take it out, but found it was stuck, and in her effort, she climbed completely into the wardrobe, tugging and tugging until –

"What the ruddy hell!" Magnolia exclaimed as she right out of the back of the wardrobe and into a pile of snow. "_What the _–_"_

The fur coat had come out as well. Shivering, Magnolia slipped it on over her gown, feeling warmed instantly. She glanced back at where the wardrobe had been.

It was gone.

--

Caspian sat in his chamber, his hair and mind in disarray.

Narnia in endless snow. The clouds had gathered months ago, and the white flakes refused to cease their pouring from the sky…

This couldn't be.

Over 1300 years ago, Narnia had come to the same misfortune…if the White Witch had returned, how would Caspian deal? He was, after all, only seventeen. Ruling Narnia for four years hadn't given him experience enough to defeat an accomplished sorceress, especially not one who had captured and killed Aslan. Though admittedly, Aslan had, according to legend, put her to her grave. If the bitter cold was her doing, how could she be?

It was only then that he noticed a cut in his forearm, and cut by a foreign knife...and a vial reserved for collecting enemies' blood was gone. Caspian frowned. He assumed he must have been careless earlier, but the cut was fresh, yet painless. When he pressed it, blood oozed it.

He wiped it away on a handkerchief. Then, with a sudden shock, Caspian recalled something from his youth: the stench of a werewolf restraining him, a hag slicing his hand, a dwarf he thought he could trust calling upon the White Witch, who implored him for just a drop of his royal blood for her resurrection.

Caspian leaped up, stubbing his toe on his nightstand. Cursing, he grabbed his toe with one hand and seized his cloak with the other, and in seconds, he was off.

If he couldn't find the lamppost from which he knew the earthlings could arrive, he – and Narnia – was doomed.

Deep into the forest, Magnolia was still shivering, curled up into a chilly ball. She had been wandering for hours, and still no way out. She regretted ridiculing Lucy, promising herself never to make fun of the girl again if she could just escape the biting frost.

A shadow passed her. Magnolia gasped, then sank deeper into the darkness, hoping whatever it was hadn't heard her.

Unfortunately, it had.

It was a man on a horse, and the animal had stopped, snuffling its hooves in the snow. The man jumped off, swore, and rubbed his toe. Frightened but understandably interested, Magnolia leaned closer to the light a bit to catch a glimpse of the man, who was approaching her; there was no doubt that he knew someone was there.

Magnolia closed her eyes and hoped he was friendly…

"Who's there?"

Magnolia opened her eyes. The handsome, tanned face of a boy peered at her – someone she hadn't been expecting.

"What are you doing down there?"

His accent reminded Magnolia of the nice Spanish boys she had once frolicked with.

"I – um, I hope you're not an enemy," she said tentatively, surprised at the softness in her voice.

"Of course not," he said. He stretched out a hand. She took it, locking her lacy, delicate fingers in his calloused ones, and he pulled her up.

"Who are you?" she asked.

The boy-man laughed. "Not from Narnia?"

Magnolia blinked. "I – what? Narnia? No…"

"I'm King Caspian."

Caspian looked into her deep eyes, waiting for her next words. To his surprise, a glint of recognition flickered.

"C-Caspian?" she repeated. She had heard the name spoken between Lucy and Susan, but had no idea he was a king. "Are…are you friends with the Pevensies?"

Caspian smiled, a boyish happiness evident in his face. "Dearly."

Magnolia nodded.

"You look cold, milady," Caspian said suddenly, realizing his need for courtesy.

Magnolia straightened herself up to her full height, only a few inches shorter than he, and said briskly, "I am. It's Magnolia, by the way."

"Then come along, Magnolia," Caspian said, pulling Magnolia to his horse, a little taken aback by her boldness. The horse gave her a strange look, as if of examination, then of approval, and Caspian helped her onto the horse, then dexterously leaped onto the back as well. Magnolia reluctantly put her hands around his waist, wondering if this man were really a king.

Caspian cast a look back at this young woman, oddly-dressed and with a strange demeanor, as though she were really strong-willed but so unfortunately suppressed, then turned back around and took firm hold of the reins.

Magnolia's scream broke the chilled air as the horse whinnied, bucked, and dashed off.

--

Only seconds after Magnolia's departure, Lucy Pevensie discovered the door of the wardrobe open. There was a brief frenzy as she called for her brother, but they soon followed the girl they knew might cause serious trouble.

--

"Oh – oh dear Lord…"

Magnolia gazed up at the towering castle in which Caspian lived, and all her doubts of him being a king vanished. They rode past its sight and into a warmer stable.

Caspian slid off the horse's back and helped Magnolia down. She put a white hand to her face, cheeks rosied from the harsh cold.

"Thanks, Odin," Caspian said to the horse. Magnolia whipped her head around when she heard a voice respond: "my pleasure, Your majesty," but only the horse stood in its stall. Magnolia blinked.

Still dazed from the day's events, Magnolia looked at Caspian. He couldn't be younger than sixteen: her age. She couldn't deny, though, the young king was dreamy. Dapper. Handsome. He was taller than she was, and she admired his wind-blown hair, dark brown eyes, strong features that somehow matched a certain gentleness…

"So, milady, where dost thou fare?"

Magnolia stopped admiring him and struggled to compose herself.

"I'm from China originally, but I lived in France nearly all my life, until I came to England to stay with my tutor, Professor Kirke. The Pevensies' uncle."

Caspian looked thoroughly confused, if only for a few moments, having no idea, of course, what China, France, and England were, but all he needed was that she was a student of the Pevensies' uncle.

Magnolia spoke again, her old arrogance showing in her voice now.

"Why am I here?"

Caspian paused, slightly surprised.

"But – you're supposed to be here, aren't you? Didn't Aslan send you? You emerged at the lamppost, and you're to help me save Narnia!"

Magnolia, too, paused.

Narrowed her eyes.

Threw back her hair. Its raven color shimmered even in the dim light of dusk.

Caspian felt an instant charm in the girl, yet a faint dislike mingled with curiosity and attraction.

"What the _hell_ is this Narnia you keep talking about!"


	2. Chapter 2

Lucy and Edmund Pevensie tumbled out of the wardrobe, much as Magnolia had only a few Narnian hours previously

Thanks for the reviews so far!

Disclaimed: I don't own Narnia. Except Caspian's heart. Hahaha I wish.

Lucy and Edmund Pevensie tumbled out of the wardrobe, much as Magnolia had only a few Narnian hours previously.

"Oh, it's winter already?" Edmund exclaimed, landing on the rough crystals of snow.

"I don't think it's winter, Ed," Lucy said cautiously. "This isn't Christmas. Winter brings joy, and here, not even the trees are cheery."

Edmund winced. "Oh no, oh no oh no oh no," he said, shuddering at the mere thought of a resurrected Jadis

Lucy looked tearful, and Edmund suddenly jumped up, startling his sister. He puffed up his chest and gathered as much courage as he could, then said, "Whatever this force is, whatever's making Narnia suffer, we're going to do everything we can do stop it."

Edmund's voice was strong, but it didn't match his heart. Truly, he was shivering, frightened, knowing his weakness for the witch and her Turkish Delight. But he had to be strong. He _had_ to. Peter wasn't here. And Susan wasn't here – he was the oldest, Lucy's protector, and who knew what Magnolia would do?

At his words, Lucy brightened, and Edmund knew he had said the right thing.

"So what do we do?" Lucy asked. Edmund grimaced. He had been hoping she wouldn't ask that right away.

"Well, er, we find help first, I guess," he said. "But…who'll help us? If it's the White Witch who's back, who can we trust?"

"Trumpkin and Reepicheep," Lucy said thoughtfully, but sadly. "But…are they still around? Reepicheep's a mouse, after all. He's…probably not here anymore."

"Oh, that's what _you _think, is it?"

The familiar voice emerged from the darkness of the trees around them. Lucy screamed; Edmund nearly tripped over his own foot.

Lucy began backing away from the source of the noise. Less suspicious was Edmund, who knew the voice well. Instead, Edmund darted his vision around, and spotted a slight rustling in the shrubs at the bottom of the trees.

Edmund grabbed Lucy's hand and held her still, still watching the rustling.

"Is – is that a tail?" Lucy asked weakly.

"You betcha!"

It was Reepicheep.

Lucy faltered in surprise. The mouse grinned at her.

"What, you have nothing to say to an old friend?"

--

"Narnia is my country," Caspian said, still frowning. "What – what are you doing here?"

"I fell through the back of wardrobe into this place," Magnolia said coldly. "I don't know if I'm dreaming or not, but this is crazy. You're a king of this, what, Narnia? And the Pevensies were what? Fighters?"

"More than just that," Caspian said, with a surprised expression. "They are the kings and queens of old. They ruled this place, over a thousand years ago!"

Magnolia blinked, then laughed the same tinkling laugh she had given Lucy only hours earlier.

"You're joking," she said flatly.

"No," Caspian replied, more bemused than ever. "Time passes differently for my world and your world. Always differently."

Magnolia groaned. Caspian, however, sighed, beginning to dislike her even more despite her appearance.

"I'll take you to a guest chamber, then, and I'll have a servant bring you some fresh clothes," he suggested. Magnolia nodded and followed him.

The guest chamber was large, spacious, beautiful. Magnolia gaped at it, her large eyes darting around the room, taking note of its high ceiling, flaring fireplace, and luxurious bed. She turned to Caspian.

"Thank you," she said humbly. Caspian raised an eyebrow and welcomed her.

"Someone will be up shortly," he said before departing.

Magnolia flopped down onto the bed. It was delightfully soft. She watched the flames in the fireplace lick the brick walls for a bit. The warmth was nice, but it made her drowsy…

All the servants were busy. Caspian cursed them when none of them was free to deliver Magnolia's clothes, and had to take them himself.

The girl was sleeping when he entered her chamber. Caspian laid a new dress and scarf at the foot of the bed on which she curled up.

He glanced at the grandfather clock by the fireplace. It was still early – night time would not be due for another few hours. The room was wonderfully warm, though, and Caspian wished he could just lie down and go to bed.

Instead, he sat down beside her and gazed at her. Her face was strangely familiar: he recognized the long eyelashes that cast feathery shadows onto the high cheekbones, the full lips, the long black hair. Caspian was sure he had seen her before, somewhere…but where?

Magnolia stirred unexpectedly, and Caspian jumped. When she remained still, he got up quietly and left.

If her attitude weren't so arrogant, Caspian decided, he might actually like her.

But he had better things than arrogant women to worry about. The White Witch's possible return, for example, would prove to be a great problem for the young king.

Caspian hurried back to his chamber and seized his well-worn but trustworthy cape, hooking it around his neck and grabbing his oldest but most durable sword.

Praying that no Telmarine whose allegiances lay with the deceased Miraz was still present in Narnia, Caspian checked his armor and nearly flung himself into the stables, where Odin was grazing, his nose buried in a pile of fresh oats.

"Ready to go off again?" Caspian asked softly, patting Odin's head. Odin nuzzled his master and gave a nicker.

Caspian took Odin's reins and led the horse out of his stall. Suddenly, Odin gave a high whinny, one that was shrill and cautionary.

"Look sharp, Your Majesty!" Odin whinnied.

Caspian gave Odin a look of half-alarm, half-confusion, but Odin refused to leave the stable, and Caspian tugged hard on the reins to open the door.

"Look sharp, Your Majesty, indeed you should."

Caspian whirled around, truly alarmed now. He recognized that voice. It was once warm, but now sarcastic and chilled.

"_Aunt Prunaprismia_?"

"That's right," former Queen Prunaprismia said sleekly. "You, boy, cost me a life of happiness. A life with Miraz."

Caspian could do nothing but stare. Prunaprismia had grown older, thinner, colder. She was once a plump, pink-cheeked woman, always smiling despite being overshadowed by Miraz. Now her face was lined, her long red hair tinged with gray, as though mocking her once good looks. An old dress that looked as though it came from her era of royalty hung loosely from her shoulders, a symbol of her losses.

"Have you nothing to say?" Prunaprismia said, raising her eyebrows.

"Are you alone?" was all Caspian could manage.

Prunaprismia's smirk seemed to fade a bit.

"Almost," she said sadly, and Caspian almost felt pity for her.

"Almost?" he repeated.

"My son," she clarified. "Phelim."

From behind Prunaprismia, a little boy of no older than four years emerged. Caspian took an instant liking to him, this rosy, bubbly toddler.

Phelim smiled toothily at his cousin.

"So," Caspian said hesitantly, "what are you doing here then, Aunt? I thought you'd left Narnia. For good."

Prunaprismia scoffed. "How could I leave?" she said harshly. "Traveling to the nearest bordering countries is impossible. Archenland is separated by mountains, and Calormen is separated by desert. Anywhere else is separated by water. I've been living in the forest for years, Caspian."

Caspian frowned. She hadn't answered his question.

"So I come here," Prunaprismia went on. She bowed her head and lowered herself to her knees. "I want permission to stay here."

Again, Caspian was speechless.

Finally, he mustered the strength to speak.

"You're here asking to stay with me? Aunt Prunaprismia, you did your best to make me unhappy! _And _you nearly killed me once! You think I should – let you back into this castle? What do you _really _want from me?"

Prunaprismia scowled.

"I want Phelim to have a happier life than he is now," she said after a long pause.

Caspian looked at Odin, who gave his master a wary but approving look. When he returned his gaze to his aunt, the toddler was babbling happily at his mother's feet.

"Fine," Caspian said with a long sigh, "what I'll do is I'll _let you in_. You'll be questioned. I refuse to guarantee anything, but we'll see."

The former Queen rose, her eyes shining. Caspian was troubled to catch a glint of something more like triumph than like relief; his eyes voluntarily wandered to the cut on his forearm, and he resolved to search his aunt for a knife while she was in custody.

--

A little background information in this story:

I'm assuming Caspian was about thirteen, like he was in the books, and that there was NOTHING between Caspian and Susan. Ever. Frankly, I dislike Susan. Now about four years have passed, and Caspian is seventeen. He has already returned from his adventure with Edmund and Susan, so Aslan found that they were needed again in Narnia. Hahaha it sounds a bit contrived but just play along.


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